


Much Ado About Takeout

by colavaria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Awesome Sam Wilson, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fast Food, Fluff, Food, Neighbour Sam Wilson, Neighbour!AU, Protective Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson Feels, Sam Wilson is a Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:56:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colavaria/pseuds/colavaria
Summary: Neighbour!AU where, when you order off the takeout menu, Sam’s there to help you out.





	Much Ado About Takeout

**Author's Note:**

> Sam Wilson would be the best neighbour.

Your stomach is audibly groaning when you hastily unlock the door to your apartment. Kicking your shoes off at random, you pick up the television remote and flick to the channel guide, searching for the program title you need: Brooklyn Nine-Nine.  

“Yes, yes I know you’re hungry, we’ll eat soon!” You tell your stomach when it rumbles a fearsome, but empty rumble.

As head chef, you’ve been working nonstop shifts at the restaurant lately.  Last week you had returned from a conference in Europe and since then, you and your team have been practicing the new tips you’d brought back; consequently, you’ve spent most nights eating with the staff once all the customers leave. 

Before you could dine today, though, your co-worker had offhandedly mentioned that the season premiere of the show had aired, and the only repeat would be later tonight, meaning in forty-five minutes from now.  You had rushed home to record it, not trusting Netflix to have the episode up soon if you missed it tonight. After cancelling  _Sense8_  and  _The Get Down_ , you and Netflix aren’t on great terms and in protest you’ve chosen its rival, trusty cable, as a replacement.

Satisfied the episode was set to record, you hop over to your kitchen to see what delicious meal you’re going to devour, then frown. Your fridge has nothing but the basics: butter, carrots, water bottles, and a lone egg. Hardly a meal. Surely your freezer has a frozen something….

“Really, Past Y/N? Nothing?”

You shut it with a sigh. Time for Plan B. Your apartment is at the end of the hall; you knock on the door to your left.  No answer--Sam must be out. You head back inside, and picking up your pile of takeout menus, you mentally thank him for insisting you keep them whenever he came over for a marathon.

_“You never know when you’ll need one,” he always said._

_“I’m a Cordon Bleu educated chef, Sam, I don’t think I’ll forget to cook for myself,” you always replied._

_“Call me the day you do, and please order spring rolls.”_

Oh, the irony.

Your mouth salivating at the glossy photos on the menus, you dial up the local pizza joint and order two of their largest size, asking for heaps of toppings. Once you hang up, you trace the fancy script of the Thai place not far from your apartment.  You do owe Sam spring rolls…and it never hurts to have leftovers.

To kill time, you text Sam.

_Apartment. Come at once if convenient._

You unload the dishwasher and send another _._

 _If inconvenient, come anyway._   _-S.H._

He’s the one who introduced you to Sherlock, your previous TV obsession. Since you moved in, you two have shared more marathons than you could count; missing Brooklyn Nine-Nine would be a breach of tradition.

 _On my way -Watson_  

After vacuuming the carpet, dusting, and stripping your bedsheets, the doorbell finally rings. You literally run through your apartment in excitement, and the delivery guy, Peter, mirrors your wide smile when you throw the door open.

“I have two party sized pizzas for Y/N,” he squints at the label before his face lights up in excitement. “Oh cool, are you having a party?”

You open your mouth with every intention of responding, no, they’re all for you, thank you very much, until you think about it.

You’re still wearing the shirt with your restaurant,  _your well-known restaurant_ , logo.

While you had no issue chowing down on takeout with friends who knew of your profession, explaining the reason why you ordered two pizzas (and Thai food, but he didn’t need to know that) to a stranger would take a whole new level of extroversion and trust and a hassle you just don’t want to deal with. Luckily, your distraction comes in the form of your neighbour.

“Hey, Y/N, some of your mail got delivered to my box.“

Sam walks down the hall, shuffling the envelopes in his hands; he doesn’t notice Peter at first and only looks up, you know, because of the smell of pizza wafting through the hall.

In a split-second decision aided by the excited looks Peter had been giving you earlier, you stop Sam.

“Sam, where are you going?” You grab his arm before he can take out the keys to his place, making sure you won’t make him drop the bottle of red wine he’s holding. 

_Oh god, I’m doing this. I can’t back down now._

“What do you mean, I live—”

“The party is at my apartment,” you prevent him from going any further, with a pointed look.  _There is no party, help me out,_  you urge your eyes to communicate.

Sam looks to both sides before furrowing his brow at you.  “Party?”

“Yes, of course, the surprise party for Riley,  _remember_?” You’re laying it on thick to make him catch on to the act, and the way his expression changes from confusion to amused understanding tells you he does. “Don’t be silly, did you get the address wrong?”

“Hmm...don’t think so. This apartment,” he tilts his head towards his door, totally messing with you, “looks a lot sweeter than yours.”

Peter is thoroughly confused.  “Uhh, so where am I delivering to?”

“My place for our party,” you confirm, smiling sweetly up at Sam. He says his next words while meeting your gaze unblinkingly, and you feel heat creeping up your neck.

“Oh, it’s definitely a  _surprise_  party, Peter.”

You step on his foot then continue as if nothing happened. “How much does he owe you?”

“Nah, hostess, it’s your turn to pay,” Sam winces, leaning heavily on your shoulder. You’re going to pay him back of course, you’re just hoping this will show you need his help.

“They’re $30…” Peter trails off, too engrossed in your banter to question anything.

“I bought the decorations, Y/N—“

“It’s my place—“

“I’m the DJ—“

“I ordered you spring rolls,” you murmur.

Sam immediately pulls out his wallet and handed Peter the money plus a generous tip.

“I love you,” he whispers, rubbing up and down your back. The gesture is something he did regularly, however, when preceded by those three little words, it causes your heart to do a happy hop, skip and a jump.

Peter slides the two pizzas out of the warming sleeve and hands them to you, then you bounce into your apartment, the warmth of your dinner spreading to further warm your heart.

Another voice joins the mix and you hurry back to the hallway.

“I have food for Y/N? Is there a Y/N here?” A dark-haired guy on the shorter side, an [UberEATS ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UberEATS)bag slung over his shoulder, uses a hand to jokingly search for you.

“Hi, Luis, right? I’m Y/N, thanks for delivering.”

“No problem, I love delivering, it’s sublime, bro, oh my god. Like, it’s great. I get to drive my car everywhere, and meet all these super fine chicas like you,” he says, punctuating each sentence with a wink in your direction. “Super fine.”

“Thanks,” you reply awkwardly, and pay him. You pass Sam what you owe him too. Even though you might daydream about the idea of a relationship, flirting isn’t your number one strength.

“So how about it, Y/N, would you want to go out?”

“We have to go set up, sorry man.” Sam reaches to grab the bags and you notice the brown paper crunch loudly.

“Aw, okay. I understand.”

“Sam, let’s gooo inside,” you swing your arms through your open door.

Sam doesn’t. You know the episode is about to start, and this justifies your choice to start pushing him.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret: Y/N doesn’t like store-bought banners. She prefers to make them herself. They’re amazing, I wish I could show you the one she made for tonight--”

“He’s a joker, don’t mind him,” you interrupt, struggling to push Sam in your apartment with your back, him still going on about you. Even though you’re using all your strength, Sam barely moves an inch.  Damn his balance.

“She leaves the balloons on the floor. I’ve told her to tape them on the walls and she said no, but what can you do? It’s wild. You get me, guys, I know you do.”

“Bro yeah, I tried to plan a surprise party for my buddy once and had to find somewhere to have it—okay, so first I was talking to my cousin Ernesto who knows how to barbeque, he’s good at ‘quing chicken, but he’s the best at doing steaks, and funny enough not very good with fish. And he doesn’t have, like, a physical barbeque. Weird how that works.”

You and Sam pause, you still leaning on him, and exchange a glance. Like you could read each other’s thoughts, he hugs an arm around your waist and you both start inching inside.

“Anyways he said he can, and he was going to invite his friends to come over too. One of them has a barbeque but then he realized it was broken and he didn’t even have gas, yo, so we wouldn’t able to have it at his place.  What a mess, right? I totally get you.”

Peter is about to walk away from the long explanation when he hears the TV blasting and he cranes his neck to get a better look.

“You guys are watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Aw man, I’m working all night but my aunt is supposed to be recording it, I should remind her—okay, I should get going so I can be home faster! Enjoy your pizza!”

You wave and Luis takes that as his cue to leave as well. Finally, you close the door, leaning against it for a beat before migrating to sit cross-legged in front of the TV. Sam tosses you a water bottle from your fridge.

“Man, Luis talks a lot.”

“I know, damn.”

“So is this going to be a regular thing? You hosting surprise parties for our friends?” He asks, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.  

You blush and open the pizza box to hide behind the lid. “It was a split-second decision, sorry about that. “

“No, no, I don’t mind, I just need to know so I can bring streamers and my turntables,” Sam shoots you a toothy grin, flopping beside you and rewinding the episode before choosing a piece of steaming hot pizza.

“I did it because I ordered a shit ton of food and the kid was judging me!”

“Sure, sure,” he says, nodding, disbelief dripping from the words. “It’s your birthday next week, are we planning a party for that too?”

“If you’re planning, I’m down…”

The episode starts, and you both munch the food and laugh along at the precinct’s antics. Jake and Holt are just too entertaining when they banter, and Gina is a real character. It’s the perfect way to relax, and with Sam’s contagious laughter, your cheeks and abs are burning by the end of the show.

“Y/N, I don’t know why you were worried,” Sam leans back, patting his belly satisfied.  “I, for one, think it’s very impressive you can eat an entire pizza.”

“Me too.  But I can’t very well tell people I work at a fancy restaurant and I eat takeout on my off time. If I want pizza, I should at least be making it myself.”

“Ooo,” he scolds, “what would your boss say?”

“You forget, Wilson, I’m the head chef. I have no boss!”

“A woman in charge, I like it,” he says, and when you meet his eyes, there’s just enough softness in his expression to indicate he’s being completely sincere.

You aren’t sure what to respond; Sam was so  _smooth._   So, you focus on facts.

“You know my birthday.”

“I do.  I pay attention to my neighbours, you know.”

You frown, wondering if you should know everyone’s birthday. “Huh.  What’s Mrs. Hudson in 4D’s birthday?”

“No idea.”

“I thought you said you knew the birthdays of all your neighbours?”

“I never said all.” One corner of his mouth raises in a half smile, and you bite the inside of your cheek because that look is causing you to feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust in your living room. “Only the important ones.”

You hold his eye contact, your lips curving up, and, now that your stomach is full, you have a moment to think about these butterflies that are sharing the space.

The hole in your heart that throbs painfully whenever you have to work Fridays—aka date night—is a little harder to fill.  You consider yourself married to your work but you can’t pretend an onion ring is your idea of romantic. During your usual round of the restaurant to see if everyone’s visit is pleasant, you must swim through a sea of loving gazes and affectionate touches, and sometimes it’s overwhelming. So many couples.  None are half-you.

Could that change?

You’ve always been attracted to Sam. The first day you moved in he had helped you with all your boxes--such a gentlemen--and by the time your truck was empty, both of you had been cracking up about the stories you each told on the trip up the stairs and you couldn’t believe your luck in getting such a great neighbour. That easy dynamic had jumped the line to kindred spirits…one question and it could jump another line.

Sam’s the one who breaks your staring contest, getting up and walking to your kitchen. He returns with two glasses and the bottle of red wine he had been carrying earlier.  He hands you a glass and fills it halfway.  

You thank him, and smile as you take a sip. Sam’s watching your reaction before he takes a drink of his own, and he’s rewarded with your wide eyes when you pull the glass back to study it like you can see the ingredients to show you what makes it so delicious.

“Oh my god!”

“Good? A friend recommended it.”

“It’s really good.”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and you’re watching him as he sets the bottle on the table. You’re about to ask if he wants to go to dinner—a proper, non-takeout dinner—when your nerves get the best of you. What if he rejects you? Will you be as close after? The thoughts make you bail, instead picking up the remote. You’re positive you’re blushing.

_Sam probably noticed, I’m never nervous around him! Uggghh_

“Y/N, I--”

“Mm,” you hum, thumbing through the channels for a movie.   _He noticed…_

“I—“ He hesitates, you feel him turn to you and he starts again. “You were staring?”

Caught, the nerves return, though you feel calmer when your eyes meet Sam’s warm ones.  Maybe he’ll say yes?  

_I won’t know until I ask…c’mon Y/N._

You have to shift on the couch so one knee is bent and the other foot is still on the floor to face him. You’re not sure how to begin, so you just say it before you get nervous again.

“Doyouwanttogooutfordinner?” You say in one breath. You’re about to repeat it, wondering if you said it too fast, when Sam answers.

“Out for dinner?”

You nod. “With me.”

His face breaks out into an ear-reaching grin and the nervous butterflies immediately dissipate.

“I’d love to. Does Friday work?”

“Friday is perfect.”

Now you’re both grinning madly, and if anyone walked in, they’d wonder about you two. He takes your forearms and pulls you in for a tight hug. 

“Oh-um, what were you going to say before?”

“You beat me to the punch, Y/N. I was going to ask you the same thing.”

_AHHHH_

Yep, you’re going to combust.  You lean into him and you both settle in to watch the movie, until you remember. 

“Does this mean we’re having another party next week?”

“Yup, just like this one. I’ll call Peter and Luis.”


End file.
